


Libertine

by TheDruidIsIn



Series: Slasher Soulmate AUs [2]
Category: Child's Play | Chucky (Movies 1998-2017), Horror Fandom, Slasher Fandom - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Another Slasher Soulmate AU, Blood, Blood Magic, Blood-drawing, Canon Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Disregard for Accepted Common Decency, Casual Murder, Charles is as perverted as ever, Charles might be a bit of a slut and they both know it, Chucky is His Own Warning, Dark Humor, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Established Relationship, F/M, Human!Chucky|Charles Lee Ray, Hurt/Comfort, Irreverence, MC has her own set of morals, MC is a Black Widow, MC is a witch, Minor Character Death, Needles, Nicknames, No MC does not sex him as a doll, Oral Sex, Soulmate AU, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Witchcraft, Witches, past angst, there's like one mention of the words sexual assault but nothing happens on or off screen, with no respect for the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDruidIsIn/pseuds/TheDruidIsIn
Summary: Seeing your soulmate's mangled corpse on a news broadcast is a terrible way to learn of their demise. Waking up to said 'dead' soulmate in your room in the middle of the night, begging you to help them find a new body makes it only slightly more tolerable.A Shared Senses Soulmate AU in which MC and Charles were together before he was transferred into the doll. As the ‘Good Guy’ doll, he returns to her place of residence for her help. As in the previous fic, Soulmates are completely incapable of harming each other.
Relationships: Chucky | Charles Lee Ray/Original Female Character(s), Chucky|Charles Lee Ray/Original Female Character(s) of Color, Chucky|Charles Lee Ray/Reader
Series: Slasher Soulmate AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119287
Kudos: 14





	Libertine

**Author's Note:**

> Title is inspired by Sevdaliza's song of the same name, and the lyrics are from that song. Fair warning that the MC calls Charles "Chaz" instead of Chucky, but it's the same person. She just had a different nickname preference. His nickname for her is Bunny, but that is NOT her actual name.

...

Libertine

…

_Libertine, if you fall_

_I come for you_

…

“Bunny, hey Bunny.”

The fervent whispering caught my attention, dragging me out of the blissful, half-asleep daze that came from being woken up in the middle of the night. At first I wasn’t coherent, merely rolling toward the sound of the voice and stretching out my arm, searching. There was only one man—one person at all, really—who called me that as a nickname instead of my birth name. “Mm,” I murmured, using _my_ nickname for _him_. I was the only one who called him Chaz—everyone else tended to call him Chuck or Chucky. I found that particular nickname distasteful, so I picked my own.

“Chaz, baby, come to bed.” I patted the empty spot next to me with a half-limp hand. Then it hit me, and suddenly the drowsiness and bleariness drained away as I sat up abruptly, straining to see into the dark.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up, Bunny.”

It couldn’t be—he was dead. _Charles was dead._ I’d seen it on the news just like everyone else, but been forced to hide my shock, my horror, my sorrow, my _grief._ Charles didn’t love many people. It was debatable if he even could. Yet I clearly remembered all the opportunities he had to try kill me, but hadn’t (even if it would have been impossible, given our circumstances). I recalled the way his usually cold black eyes would glitter with warmth and affection. He barely tolerated others, but he went out of his way to see me, to spend time with me. The pleased sounds he made during sex were still fresh on my mind, as were his tender caressed afterward and the way he held me to him, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulder. I could never forget the night we met, after three years of tasting Swedish meatballs at least once a week.

How could he be here, _now_ , when it had been years since his death, years since the camera panned and I caught a glimpse of my soulmate’s mangled corpse being carried out of the building. A sob worked its way up my throat as I reached blindly for him, for the soulmate I thought I’d lost. The bed creaked, shifting slightly toward the end where Charles had to be sitting. “Shhh, Bunny, it’s okay.”

His reassurance only made it worse. I struggled to compose myself anyway, desperate for this not to be a hallucination. I sniffed then cleared my throat before finally managing to speak again. “Chaz, is that you?”

“In the flesh, babe...so to speak.” I could hear the bitter dark humor in his voice.

I bit my lip, my hand twitching toward the lamp. “Come closer.”

There was a long pause, until finally I felt the shifting of the sheets underneath him as he moved, heard as his body slid over the fabric. Something small clutched at my sheer nightgown, tiny hands grasping at my breasts as small feet planted in my lap. “What the fuck?”

The light from the lamp bloomed in the dark. I found myself blinking down in shock at the tiny figure standing in my lap. It was a Good Guy doll, cute little overalls and sneakers, ginger hair, sky blue eyes, and all—except clearly _not_. Aside from the fact that it had been mangled seventeen ways to hell and back, it also lacked the generic dopey grin and vacant gaze, instead staring at me rather seriously with an intelligence most people never wanted to see in a doll. The perfectly pouty lips curved into a familiar smirk, and when Charles next addressed me, it clearly emanated from the doll. “Surprise, Bunny.”

I could only stare at him. I might be a witch, but this threw me for a loop. “I—what the fuck, Chaz?”

He sneered at me. “What, never seen a talking doll?”

I rolled my eyes, gesturing at his new vessel. “Why the _fuck_ are you a doll?”

Hearing his old nickname from me, his sneer only grew. “Voodoo ritual.”

I pursed my lips, eyes narrowed. “So basically you were playing around with power you didn’t understand and that isn’t _for_ you.”

A rictus of shock flickered on his features, followed by a furious snarl. “First of all, Bunny, fuck you. I know what your opinions are about me and voodoo. Second of all, that douche told me I was stuck this way.”

My brows wrinkled. “Who?”

“John fucking Bishop,” Charles spat.

I scoffed. “Please, this is hardly John’s fault. The warning signs are all there, _‘Outsiders Beware’_ , and y’all keep going where you don’t have business going anyway.”

Charles glared. “Look, can you fix this? I don’t need the high n’ mighty ‘I told you so’ shtick from my damn soulmate. You were the only witch that I ever—” The look on his face as he paused to reevaluate his sentence deeply amused me. “Dated,” he finished.

“Slept with,” I corrected, not really all that put out by his inadvertent admission. I knew about the brief flings he’d occasionally had before we met as well as his unrequited love for Sarah despite them not being soulmates—love, or at least, his fascination and affection bordering on obsession with her. We still hadn’t found each other yet, and at one point he very well may have believed they were matched until it became abundantly obvious they weren’t. Since some people fell in love outside of their match, and others just found it difficult to find them, it made sense that he might have feelings for someone else and try to pursue those feelings with or without a bond. 

“Slept with,” he agreed sourly, pouting at being caught.

I smirked, holding back the snicker that threatened to break loose at any moment. “Yes, I can fix this.” I hesitantly reached out to touch his cheek, my breath catching as I felt the familiar electrical current that came with touching your soulmate. The texture was odd underneath my fingertips, not quite like a doll’s face but not quite like human skin, either. I traced over his currently delicate features. He wore a grudging expression as he leaned into my hand, his eyes locked on my face. “Although I’m not fixing it _tonight_.” Before he could protest, I held up my hand and elaborated. “I’m not doing it right now because I’m _tired_ and if I push myself you might end up with two heads, three arms, and no dick. So I’m not doing it tonight, _but_ I can fix it.”

He scowled impatiently, grinding his teeth together. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Now—can you still sleep?”

A perverted grin replaced his malevolent sulking. “I can sleep and _more.”_

His hands squeezed my breasts and I lightly smacked the back of them, much to his disgruntlement. “Not _now,_ Chaz.”

He crossed his stubby doll arms as he returned to sulking and I struggled not to cackle aloud. “Why the fuck not?”

I stroked his hair away from his face and kissed his temple. “Because no offense to you, but if I sleep with you right now, it’s going to be really fucking weird.” _Like getting groped by a toddler_ , I thought ruefully.

Despite not saying anything, he seemed to read between the lines. “Right…. Night then, Bunny.”

I switched the light off and hunkered down with him, twisting so that I lay on my side with him in my arms. He clung to me, seeming content for the moment with the prospect of being returned to his body sitting just on the horizon—that, and with laying snuggly against my breasts.

Some things never changed

…

\|/

…

Chaz peeked out from the blankets I’d wrapped him in so that if anyone cared to look at us, it would only appear as if I carried a small child with me and not a possessed doll. “Is this the last place?”

“Yes.”

We’d been going around scoping out potential vessels for him all day. I had my own spell that would allow me to transfer him into human flesh once more. The real problem was getting Chaz to pick someone he liked. He’d rejected every man I pointed out to him so far, each one that looked vaguely like him. They were all men who’d failed my test recently, and therefore their days were numbered. I was a Black Widow, so tended to prey on men who preyed on women and girls sexually in one way or another. Men who failed my test found themselves on the end of a spell that involved me absorbing their life-force to extend my own life and youth, like some fucked up combination of a vampire and a succubus. Men who passed my test lived another day.

Why I tolerated Charles still remained a mystery. Perhaps because of the whole soulmate business, or perhaps because sexual assault was never amongst his criminal repertoire, just robbery and murder. Perhaps because he’d never made a habit of targeting victims based on sex or sexuality, perhaps because he never made it his business to abuse young girls the way some men enjoyed, or perhaps just because, as a general rule, he never hurt children. He’d never raised a hand to me or threatened me, though honestly, he knew better. He knew as an experienced witch that I could hex him seventeen ways to hell and back. He _had_ , in fact, witnessed me cursing someone to high hell. He knew not to hurt a witch, or perhaps worse for _him_ , earn my ire or bore me.

Besides, I literally ate men—their life-force, anyway—even if they were disagreeable men. I’d be a bloody hypocrite.

I subtly pointed out the man from across the street as he ducked into a coffee shop on his lunch break. He worked at the local morgue, ironically enough. “He’s the one we came to see. Did you like him?”

Chaz seemed thoughtful. “He’s the most attractive out of them all. He’s a little young for you, though, isn’t he?”

My lips curled into an amused smirk. “We’re both in our twenties, Chaz. You were a cradle robber when we met a few years ago, didn’t you know?”

“Shit, you haven’t even hit thirty?” He seemed genuinely taken aback. “How the fuck did I not notice?”

“Probably the whole ‘ageless witch stealing men’s life-force’ thing. I wasn’t at it that long when we met, not that you’d be able to tell.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured you were some old hag with a cute face,” he confessed blandly as if he were saying the sky were blue or that water was wet.

I pinched him in what would be the tender flesh of his armpit if he were human.

“Ow, fuck, Bunny, what the hell,” he snapped, batting at my fingers as I retracted them.

“Respect your elders,” I retorted flippantly with an accompanying snicker.

“Bitch.”

“Prick.”

“Skank.”

“Schmuck.”

We continued trading whispered insults as we sat on a nearby bench to wait for the man—Blaise, if I remembered correctly. He emerged a little over five minutes later with his usual order in hand, walking quickly back toward his office. “Come on, Chaz. Time to get you a new body.”

We followed Blaise at a distance, slipping around to the side entrance in the alley where the ambulances would pull up with their latest deliveries instead of using the main entrance. I sidled up to the door, lowering Chaz to the ground one-armed while I dug around in my pocket for the little sack of knock-out powder. I poured a bit of the contents into my palm as Chaz kicked away the blanket as if it, personally, had offended him. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he only flipped me off in response.

The next five minutes passed in a blur.

I took position behind and to the side of the door, where I could stand out of sight, Chaz knocked on the door, and we waited. A minute or so passed without Blaise showing up to answer the knock, then the door abruptly swung open, with him poking his head into the alley. He scanned his surroundings for someone, eyes landing on Chaz, who sat innocently in plain view of the door wearing the façade of a normal doll. “What the fuck?” Blaise stepped further into the alley, kicking a door stop into place to keep the door from slamming closed behind him. He knelt in front of Chaz, picking him up to examine him. That served as my cue, spurring me to drift closer to him.

“Blaise.”

He rose to his feet then spun around to face me, leaving Chaz at his back. “You. You’re that woman from the bar. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just stopping by to say hi.”

“Yeah?” An overconfident leer overtook his confusion. “I’m the only one that works down here, you know.”

A chilling smile like a centipede crawling across a tombstone in winter flickered over my features. “Oh, I know.”

He took a step away from me. “What—?”

I raised and opened my hand, blowing the powder I held into his face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his entire body going limp. I darted forward to catch him before he could fall. I looked at Chaz, who stood nearby, having righted himself. “Show time, Chazzy.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t damage the real estate there, Bunny.”

“Bite me, Chaz.”

I maneuvered the deadweight in my arms until I could pick him up and carry him—strength fueled and supplemented by the extra life-force I consumed—then stepped into the building. Behind me, Chaz shut the door. Between three two of us, we navigated Blaise’s limp form down the hall to the morgue and into one of the empty slabs. I drew all the blinds on the glass windows, dimmed the lights, and locked the doors. Anyone else would hopefully think he was still out for lunch, and there would not be another shift change for hours yet.

Before I set out any supplies, I hoisted Chaz onto a nearby stool so he could scavenge a bit of dignity instead of climbing up the legs like a chipmunk on an oak tree. He watched me open the small tote chosen for the occasion, pulling out, of all things, a lancet, box of unused needles, alcohol wipes, and a candle and fire starter. I lit the candle with no sense of fanfare, then turned to Chaz. “I need your blood.”

A spark of suspicion entered his eyes but he offered me his hand nonetheless. I loaded one of the needles into the lancet, swabbed one of his fingertips, then quickly turned the needle depth as high as possible and pressed the release. Chaz muttered a soft, indiscernible swear under his breath. I squeezed his finger until there was a sizable blood drop gathered.

“Mark his forehead with your blood,” I told him, grasping him gently by his hips and leaning him over Blaise. Chaz was quick to do so, leaving a bloody smear above and between Blaise’s eyes, parallels to the ridge of his brows and his hairline. I took the time to swab and prick one of Blaise’s fingers, then smeared the blood in the center of Chaz’s forehead. I looked at him with all the solemnity I could muster. “Alright. This is it. You ready?”

“Actually, there’s one last thing I wanna check on before we do this switch.” And with that being said, Chaz yanked Blaise’s trousers and underpants down until they rested just below his hips, staring unabashedly at his exposed nether region. “Jesus, Bunny, and this is one of the ones you _rejected_? He’s hung like a stallion.”

“I wasn’t basing my test on _dick size,_ ” I snapped impatiently. “He could’ve been hung like a grape for all I knew.”

“Yeah, well, he’s _not_.”

Charles seemed delighted by that revelation. I rolled my eyes. “Chaz, focus.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away my concern flippantly, still staring at his new vessel’s package as if Christmas had come early.

“Lay _down_ , Chaz, and don’t interrupt my work. It’ll take a full minute for me to cast and if you interfere I have to start all over again.” Huffing in annoyance, I picked him up, ignoring his disgruntled protests about being manhandled, then laid him out on one of the empty instrument trays. I placed my hand over each of their hearts as I started the incantation.

Charles, surprisingly, shut the fuck up at that and let me get on with it, trying not to twitch impatiently as the seconds ticked by with no immediately visible result. As I neared the end, however, he gasped, his back arching off of the tray while next to him, Blaise reacted in the same manner, though he didn’t awaken. Before my eyes a small ball of light erupted from each of their mouths, flitting between vessels so that the light leaving Blaise settled in Charles’ body, and the light leaving Charles settled in Blaise’s body. Both of them lay equally still before, quite abruptly, the man I’d known as Blaise shot into a sitting position, his back ramrod straight. His eyes popped open, temporarily flashing red. The dazed, confused look turned to one of triumphant satisfaction. As that telltale smirk lit his features, devious, lustful, and with the promise of blood, I relaxed, reaching out to touch his face. “Chaz?”

“Bunny.” He grinned, all teeth. “You’ve never looked so fine.”

He swooped in and pressed his lips hungrily to mine without giving me a chance to respond properly. His arms wound around me, drawing me closer to him as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I could tell solely by the way he kissed me—as if his very life depended on it, as if he’d thirsted and hungered in the desert for forty days and forty nights, as if he would combust unless he got contact, skin on skin—where it was going if I let it continue. I broke off the kiss just as his right hand inched toward my left breast.

“There are _dead_ _people **everywhere**_ ,” I hissed, staunchly not looking in the direction of his exposed erection, a byproduct of when he’d ‘toured’ his ‘real estate’ earlier.

“So?” His smirk deepened inexplicably, lips curled in dry amusement and lazy confidence. Charles wiggled one eyebrow as he leaned in closer yet so his face hovered a hair's-breadth away from mine. “They’re not gonna complain.” He switched from being charming to cajoling and bordering-on-pleading remarkably quick. “Come on, Bunny, it’s been years.”

For the second time that day, I huffed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you mean insatiable.”

“Not helping your case, Chaz.”

His hips jerked, his cock bumping into my side as he restrained himself—as much as Charles was capable of doing that. He made those damn pleading eyes at me, the ones he knew made me melt, and before I knew it I was reaching under my skirt and yanking my panties down so that they caught at my knees then fell to the floor. The lascivious expression he wore grew more depraved yet. He slid off the table, dropping to his knees before me. He bunched my skirt up around my waist, immediately pressing himself face-first to my vulva as soon as he had access, his tongue and lips going to work. He took himself in hand, stroking himself as he sucked on my clit and slid two fingers into me. My legs jerked from knees and hips, forced to continue bearing my weight as Charles coaxed me toward climax one lick or brush of his fingertips at a time, his eyes locked on my face and him all but fisting his cock.

I tried to avoid looking at any of the dead laid out on the other slabs, but that meant staring Charles in the eye as he licked strip after strip across my clit and labia, sucking them into his mouth and twisting the slightly curled fingers resting inside of me. He continued that exquisite torture until I thought my legs would give way beneath me. Then he stood, seeking out my mouth again as he guided me toward an empty slab, lifting me onto the edge so that he stood bracketed by my legs, the bulbous tip of his cock, flushed an angry red, just shy of entering me. He shifted his weight to thrust forward, gliding into place as if no time had passed between us, as if years meant nothing. The familiar bite of his cock deep inside of me despite his change in vessel, the nostalgic bounce of my freed breasts when he yanked my shirt up to my collarbone, the knowing way his fingers rubbed circles just off center of my clit at the speed he knew I liked, all reminded me of how much I had missed him. Not just the physical aspects, but the way we had become attuned to each other before the death of his first vessel.

My fingers wrapped around his biceps as I gripped at his arms for supper. I bit my lip, trying not to let any of the obscene sexual noises bubbling up in my throat loose into the still air. It felt irreverent on so many levels even with no religious aspect added. The dead lay only a few feet away and yet I _still_ found myself taking him, taking every inch just like I used to, _welcoming_ him—his new girth, his new length, his new yet old scents laid over top of each other, his habit of leaving messy love-bites all over my neck, shoulder, and collarbone. Together, it all made my toes curl deliciously, amplifying every nip delivered by the tip of his cock, even—perhaps especially—as he bottomed out inside of me. Despite my best efforts, a low scream of pleasure finally worked its way through my resolve, though I tried to clench my teeth to deaden it, nails digging into his upper arms.

Tracking the progress of my emotions until then by watching me closely, Charles buried his face into the crook of my neck, where he pressed his skin into mine as he panted, “Fuck _, fuck_ , just like I remembered, _oh god.”_

The snap of his hips as he thrust into me harder and harder, and the flick of his wrist as he rubbed my clit with greater intensity, soon took their toll. The orgasms kept coming one after the other in small waves, as if I were the shore drawing in the tide. I eventually came so hard that I nearly passed out from the rush, muscles spasming and walls clenching as if they wanted to keep Charles locked inside of me forever.

“God, fuck, do your spell _now,”_ Charles urged breathlessly.

Knowing what he meant I muttered the contraceptive incantation not a moment too soon. He shuddered, spilling his seed into me. Charles was a glorious sight with his cheeks flushed, eyes heavily hooded but still observing me, his eyelashes fanning against his face like a fallen cherub and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He nearly sagged against me after the last drop leaked from him, his cum already sticky between us. We both moaned, overly sensitive, as he pulled free of me. I nearly swayed but kept my balance as he knelt for my panties and stuffed them into his trouser pockets, righting the garment and doing up the button and zipper. He discarded the lab coat he still wore without a care.

“Thanks, Bunny.” He grinned. “Now, whadda you wanna do with that loser?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the doll he inhabited minutes earlier, now lying immobile under the effects of the knockout powder that possessed not just physical, but spiritual properties. When Blaise went into the vessel, the effects of the powder carried over to his new body.

My eyes roved to the unconscious Blaise, a grin of my own slowly spreading. I hopped off of the table onto wobbly legs, flipping Charles off when he merely smirked in that rather self-satisfied way of his that meant he knew he was a good lay and so did I. “Shut it, you,” I grumbled fondly, rolling my eyes as his smirk only grew. “I think,” I mused thoughtfully, “that you and I have lunch, dear.” I eyed him meaningfully, watching as he cottoned on and gained a different sort of arousal. I gestured at Blaise, now trapped in a doll. “Shall we?”

Charles swooped in for a long kiss that involved his tongue prodding softly against mine as he ground against me, already desiring a round two. “Bon appétit, Bunny.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't actually start off writing this one as a soulmate AU, but then I saw the potential and I went for it. This is my first time playing with Chucky. I don't know how often I'd write for that franchise, but I like the way this turned out.


End file.
